


Lodestars

by phalangine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: “Sorry I’m late,” Davos says.Stannis’ face loses its color, but he doesn’t give any other sign of surprise. His voice, when he speaks, is almost bored. “You’re dead.”





	Lodestars

**Author's Note:**

> lodestar: a star used to guide the course of a ship, especially the north star; a person or thing that inspires or guides

Stannis is quiet. That isn’t unusual- he’s a quiet man, and he has a great deal to think about. The world fell apart around them, and rebuilding it isn’t easy.

More than that- it’s dirty, contentious work. Too many people don’t want to do it. Too many of the ones who are willing to do it want it done unfairly, shaping the new world emerging from the rubble into one as crooked as the world was before everything collapsed.

Davos is used to long nights and extended silences. Stannis is a driven man, not a talkative one. The work got lonely in the early days because of it. Discovering that Stannis is merely uncomfortable with people rather than uninterested in them made the task of accompanying him easier. Under the stubborn set of his jaw is a good and just man, a rarer find than gold now.

Something about this silence feels wrong.

“You’re worried about something,” Davos says, tentatively gauging Stannis’ response.

Stannis snorts. “I run one of the first cities to reform after the entire government collapsed, Davos. I’m always worried about many things.”

Not a lie but not entirely true either.

“You’re more worried than usual, then.”

“I’m not.”

Stannis is doing a good job of pretending, but Davos can see the signs. He just has to provide an opportunity.

Express concern, let Stannis brush him off, then let the silence stretch…

“If you insist on it, I don’t like what it says that Jon Snow sent you out on a patrol,” Stannis tells him testily. “You serve a higher purpose here than being on the watch. I’d thought Snow was smart enough to recognize that.”

_ There it is. _

“I did bully him into it,” Davos points out, careful to walk the line between arguing and correcting. “It grates on people that I don’t put my neck out like the rest of them, and I can’t say they’re wrong to dislike it.”

“Snow doesn’t serve them,” Stannis snaps, bristling. “He serves me, and I made it clear you weren’t to be sent out. Or did you suddenly acquire a taste for blood, Davos?”

He pauses, and Davos gives him the answer he’s looking for, “I did not.”

“So you don’t wish to fight, and you and Snow both know I disapprove. Is our store of medicine suddenly overflowing?” He scoffs. “There’s no room for unnecessary wounds or deaths, Davos, least of all yours. You’re too valuable to me to die for nothing.”

Expression turning pensive, Stannis muses, “What would I do if you died, Davos? I rely on you.”

“You have Melisandre.”

“Melisandre has her own agenda, and it only matches ours for the moment.”

It grates to oppose Stannis, but Davos has to resist him in this. “Yet you must let me go. Favoritism, real or imagined, is the root of mutiny, and Dragonstone is still unstable. You know all this.”

“As you know your value to me.” Stannis looks up at Davos and doesn’t look away. “You serve us best by helping me. If they can’t see that, then they’ll have far greater problems than chips on their shoulders.”

There's no winning this. Perhaps in a few days, when Stannis no longer feels as stung, Davos will have better luck.

“Pylos mentioned earlier there’s a specific item he’d like the scouts to be on the lookout for,” he says, bowing to the stubborn set of Stannis’ jaw. “I should find out what it is and make sure the groups know what he needs.”

Stannis’ jaw works- he’s fighting the urge to push harder when he has more pressing priorities- until he nods slowly.

“You’ll return here tomorrow.”

It isn’t a request, as none of Stannis’ words are, and Davos inclines his head before he leaves.

xx

Loras is sitting in the infirmary when Davos reaches it. They’ve come to a warmer truce than Renly and Stannis, so Davos gives Loras a brief nod as he waits for Pylos.

“He’s working on Renly,” Loras tells him. “Someone from another camp got the jump on him.”

“I take it he isn’t seriously injured?” Davos guesses. If Renly’s life were in danger, Loras wouldn’t be nearly so calm.

“His shoulder got dislocated, but Pylos said he can fix it. I suspect he’s more concerned about Renly’s mood and all the pointy objects in reach,” Loras says with a wry smile.

A lesser known fact, Davos suspects, is that Stannis’ brooding isn’t a singular trait. All the men in the family are temperamental. Renly has a brighter mood in general, so people are more forgiving.

Robert was the same way- garrulous enough to be forgiven for his bouts of belligerence.

Stannis, whose temperament is perpetually melancholic, has none of the good will his brothers have cultivated.

Pylos, uniquely, has had to dodge enough jabs from Renly to appreciate the restraint Stannis has in place of warmth. Stannis will glare and grind his teeth, but that’s all. Pylos doesn’t have be wary of seeing him on the exam table as he does with Renly. That must count for something.

A door opens, and Renly steps through. He looks a bit roughed up, but he smiles when he sees Loras.

“I could use a bath,” he says.

Loras chuckles. “You look like you could. I asked Brienne if she wouldn’t mind putting some water on to heat for you.”

“What would I do without you?” Renly asks.

Davos lets them have the moment. They’ll find out soon enough that Brienne’s ill-fated crush on Renly has faded. When Davos passed her on his way here, she was in no hurry to get Renly's bath ready. And why would she be? She’s got a suitor of her own. The older Lannister brother is genuinely courting her, and for whatever reason, she seems taken with him in return.

There’s also Tormund, but Davos can’t imagine that working out. Not when Jaime Lannister has Brienne’s attention so securely.

Unaware of any of this, Loras leans in and kisses Renly’s cheek. “Come along. The water won’t stay warm for long.”

They’re happy, Davos thinks as he watches them leave. The thought feels strange- have they really come so far that people can be happy again?

Gods willing, this is what their future holds.

As if to bring him back to reality, when Davos looks over at Pylos, the doctor’s expression is grim.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Seaworth. I realize this is a strange request.”

Requesting a scouting party is hardly strange, but it isn’t usually Pylos who does the asking, Davos supposes. “I can’t promise you we’ll find the medication you need, but-”

“Medication?” Pylos asks, brows knitting together. “No, Mr. Seaworth. It isn’t medicine we need. That is- We do need that, but this is about a different resource.”

“What other resource?” Davos asks. “What could the infirmary need if not medicine?”

“Condoms.”

Davos’ world shifts slightly. Nothing so large he feels lost and not so much anything has actually changed, but it’s enough to unsettle his gut.

“That… isn’t what I expected, Doctor.”

Pylos nods, his expression remaining unhappy. “I doubt anyone expected it, to be honest. But we do need them. To prevent pregnancies, to keep illnesses from spreading… We need condoms. If you were to find some lubricant- the type intended for intercourse, I must stress- that, too, would be greatly helpful.”

“How long before it becomes critical?” Davos asks.

“A month ago, when I first spoke to Mr. Baratheon.”

Davos resists the urge to sigh. Stannis and his refusal to acknowledge people aren’t all built like him will be Davos’ death.

He doesn’t ask if Pylos is serious. Their young doctor doesn’t joke about health. If he says this is urgent, it’s urgent- especially when he felt compelled to address Stannis directly.

“I’ll take care of it,” Davos promises. It isn’t an empty promise- before he came to work for Stannis, Davos smuggled all sorts of things. He left caches of supplies all over the country, and he wasn’t the only one who used them. They’re all too far from Dragonstone to risk checking for everyday supplies, but if they’re still used by other smugglers, they may have something of use. Or they may lure someone Davos could question about what he needs.

He lays a hand on Pylos’ thin shoulder. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to look after Stannis in my absence. He may actually listen to you- you’re a good doctor, and he knows it. Use my name if you feel it will help.”

“You’re going?” At Davos’ raised brows, Pylos quickly adds, “I only mean, you do so much here, I would have thought you’d send someone else. I’m sure Arya Stark would be willing to go or perhaps Jon Snow-”

Davos shakes his head and lets his hand slide off Pylos’ shoulder. “This is one I have to, I think. I’m Stannis’ man, but the others trust me. They know I won’t hoard what I find for myself. I don’t have any use for condoms,” he adds with a wry smile. “Besides, some of the places I need to check are difficult to describe, much less get into. Smugglers are a tricky lot, Doctor. I’m the least likely to get speared on a trap.”

Pylos nods, his physician’s cool cracking only a little at the joke. His frown at the mention of traps reminds Davos of something he needs to ask of the young man.

“And, Pylos?”

“Yes, Mr. Seaworth?”

“If anything happens to me, there’s an envelope in the top right drawer of my desk. It has something like a will in it- instructions for the care of my sons, messages for people I’d like them to have. They’re all labeled appropriately. They only need to be given out.”

“I’ll see the contents distributed, should it come to that.”

Davos nods. “Thank you. I’m sorry to ask this of you. I know it goes beyond a doctor’s duties.”

To his surprise, Pylos shakes his head. “I must disagree with you. It wasn’t so long ago that doctors regularly went to patients’ houses and opened the doors of our own to them. We knew all about the people we treated; we were part of their families, in a way. In seeking objectivity, we also put up walls between us and the people we care for, and I can’t entirely claim that’s beneficial.

“If nothing else, this new world has caused that wall to crumble. Your trust in me is a sign of that. If your doctor can’t be entrusted with your will, who can be?”

As if suddenly conscious of how much he’s spoken, Pylos clears his throat.

Davos smiles at him, unearned pride warming his chest. “Thank you, Pylos. I’ll see you when I return with what you need.”

He turns to leave, and behind him, he hears Pylos’ footsteps as he returns to his own work.

xx

Davos considers telling Stannis but decides against it. He needs to leave now, and Stannis is in a mood to be contrary.

The consequences can be dealt with when Davos returns.

xx

The first four caches are long empty, but the fifth shows signs of use. It’s the one closest to the boundary of King’s Landing, which tells Davos all he needs to know.

It’s time to visit the fallen capital.

xx

  
In hindsight, Davos should have known King's Landing would take its pound of flesh. No one enters without paying for it. The fact that Davos managed to find a cache of what he needed, along with things he didn’t but might be useful, and didn’t have to fight for it should have made him more wary.

Lying in the street, bloodied and possibly dying, Davos’ only comfort is he hadn’t been carrying the supplies when he got jumped. It was simple violence, one man beating another because he wanted to.

Well, three men beating one, but really, what difference does it make? Davos is dying, and it’s begun to rain.

xx

The rain keeps coming down. Fog rolls in with it, so thick Davos can barely see his own hands as he slowly drags himself out of the street and into the first building he can reach. Davos can only hope it’s abandoned.

He can’t risk shutting the door in case it was open for a reason, which lets the cold and rain in. He’s vulnerable to it all; there’s nothing inside but the remains of smashed furniture, not even a carpet.

He makes a point of not looking too hard at the walls. The splashes of red against the white paint can remain simple paint splatters. 

There’s room for Davos behind the door, at least, and the floors and ceilings above are solid enough to keep the rain out.

xx

It takes two days for Davos to be certain there’s no food to be found in the building, not even something stale or undesirable.

When he tries to stand, he has to bite his arm to muffle a shout. The men broke his leg. He tried to convince himself otherwise, but the truth of it is clear. He doesn’t need Pylos to tell him how to diagnose the swollen, discolored section of his body. It’s only the bones under his knee, not his thigh, which is something like a miracle, but he still can’t walk.

As he lies on his back, he looks at his right hand and its shortened fingers.

Stannis is back at their reconstructed city. He will have given up on Davos for dead by now; he’s more practical than sentimental. The people in his care need him to be dutiful to them, and the life of one old smuggler turned advisor can’t counterbalance that debt.

Davos understands that. He even loves it; Stannis’ loyalty doesn’t wane when it hurts him. He’s too good a man to let his wounds hurt the people he’s in charge of. He’ll hurt for a while- Davos is his friend, and he doesn’t think so lowly of himself that he thinks Stannis won’t mourn the loss- but he’ll survive it.

_ I should have done something stupid before I left, _ Davos thinks. _ I should have kissed him. Maybe not that day, but one of them. Sometime after he gave me this new life, I should have taken his face in my hands and kissed him. _

Melisandre will care for Stannis for the time being, as will Pylos. Shireen will be there for him to watch as she grows tall and thoughtful like her father. Davos’ own sons already look to Stannis with respect; they’ll stay loyal to him. Davos tries to take comfort in that.

xx

Years ago, a man told Davos there’s a point when your brain can’t deal with pain anymore and stops responding to it.

Pressing both feet against the floor, Davos bites into his balled up shirt and puts that theory to the test.

xx

Salladhor Saan finds Davos lying in a puddle not a minute from the edge of the city. Davos is clutching his bounty, his knuckles white where he’s gripping the bag.

He nearly made it out. If he hadn’t landed wrong when he dodged a truck racing toward him, Davos would have walked out of King’s Landing.

Limped would be more accurate, but the sentiment stands.

“What did I tell you?” Salla asks as he looks down at Davos. Exasperation is written in every curve of his face.“You’re very strange. A man takes your fingertips and you fall in love with him. I hope he at least gave you a kiss before he sent you off to dir like this.”

Davos chuckles, but the smile that comes with it makes his dry lips crack and bleed. “Not a one,” he tells his friend as he weakly wipes at his chin.

Salla sighs. “I don’t understand you, but I do like you, Davos. You’re interesting, for a Westerosi.”

“You like the possibility of Stannis rewarding you for returning me, you mean.”

His joke is waved aside like everything Salla considers beneath him. “I can like more than one thing at a time. I like you, and I like the knowledge your beloved will reward me handsomely for your safe return.”

Davos shakes his head, long past the time when he would have argued, and takes the hand Salla holds out to him.

“Be careful not to bleed on me,” Salla warns as he hauls Davos’ arm over his shoulder. “This shirt is new and expensive.”

“Too late,” Davos tells him.

Salla makes a noise of disgust. “You’re very lucky I like you.”

Davos does know that. It doesn’t stop him from bleeding on Salla’s shirt again when he gets into the cab of the truck.

xx

Loras and Renly are on watch when Davos returns.

Salla has the time of his life telling them he’s come back with a ghost, a story Davos is sorry to interrupt but knows he has to if he’s going to prevent an unnecessary fight.

“Salla, you should probably tell them I’m the ghost and you aren’t here just to upset them.”

Renly’s eyes go wide. “Davos?”

“Hello, Renly.”

Renly glances at Loras, and the looks they exchange send a burst of trepidation through Davos.

“Did something happen?”

“We thought you were dead,” Loras tells him. “It’s been more than three months since you left, and no one could find any trace of you.”

That was the point- Davos couldn’t risk someone less friendly tracking him. “Sorry about that. I did get what I left for, though,” Davos says. “Where's Pylos? Is he still in the infirmary?”

Renly frowns at him. “He’s in the infirmary, yeah, but-”

“Then that’s where I need to go,” Davos says over him. “You’ll let Salla’s truck through, then.”

“Of course.” Loras glances at Renly, then looks back at Davos. “You’ll visit Stannis after you see Pylos?”

“I will. I’d see him first if I weren’t afraid I’d lose this.” Davos pats the bag.

Loras and Renly exchange another look before they step back to let the truck pass.

Salla has been here before, so when Davos tells him to head to the infirmary, he doesn’t need directions.

He doesn’t come in with Davos.

“Will your doctor have my reward? No? Then this is a stop you can make without me.”

Davos rolls his eyes, but the familiarity of Salla’s no-nonsense attitude has been more comforting than he could have anticipated.

It’s good not to have to acknowledge the lump in his throat when Davos opens the door and nearly runs into Pylos.

“I got your supplies,” Davos tells him as he lifts the bag, balancing his weight on the staff Salla’s lending him. “The condoms weren’t expired when I found them, but you should probably check them again. The rest should be fine.”

Pylos stares at him.

“Mr. Seaworth?” he asks. He sounds younger than Davos remembers.

“In the flesh,” Davos tells him. “Sorry it took so long.”

“You can’t be here.”

“I can’t be- Why?”

“You have to see Mr. Baratheon,” Pylos tells him, already walking away. “Right now. You need to speak to him.”

“Pylos, I don’t understand.”

“If you come with me, you will.”

“Should I leave the bag here, then?”

Blinking- had he completely missed what Davos said?- Pylos reaches out and takes the bag. He seems to notice Davos’ leg as he does.

“You should take the elevator up,” he says. “I don’t like the look of that, and if I could, I’d tell you to sit and stay here, but you really do have to see Mr. Baratheon.”

Despite the anxiety growing in his belly, Davos nods and follows Pylos to the elevator.

“Tell Mr. Baratheon to call on me when he’s ready,” Pylos instructs.

“All right, but Salla-”

“I will bring your friend when I come. Please. Go up now.”

Confused and only growing more concerned, Davos does as he’s instructed.

The elevator opens right into Stannis’ office. Stannis is sitting at his desk, which faces directly at the elevator.

“Sorry I’m late,” Davos says.

Stannis’ face loses its color, but he doesn’t give any other sign of surprise. His voice, when he speaks, is almost bored. “I heard you were dead.”

It would hurt if Davos didn’t know Stannis as well as he does.

“I dislike arguing with you, but as you can see, I’m not dead just yet.”

Stannis gets to his feet sharply. “Then perhaps I should tell you to be,” he says. “Although, you cannot obey simple instructions, so for all I know, you’ll only ignore me again.”

Confused, Davos frowns at him. “Are you angry that I’m alive or angry that I went out on my own?”

Stannis clenches his jaw. “You put me in your will.”

“Of course I did.”

“You left your children to me.”

“I trust no one here with them more. If their mother could take them, I would have sent them to her, but as things are-”

“You also left me a letter that says you love me.”

Stannis reaches into a drawer and slaps a familiar envelope onto his desk. 

Davos winces. “I forgot about that.”

“You _ forgot?” _

“It’s been a long time.” Davos shrugs. If the truth is out there, it’s out there. “I didn’t really think you’d have to read it. I’ve been your man for so long, I suppose I thought anything that killed me would kill you, too.”

“You thought-” Stannis starts, only to stop himself. “If you thought we’d die together, why would you write it?”

“Because if you died, Shireen would get it. She should know you didn’t die as unloved as you try to be.”

Stannis bristles, and Davos rubs a hand over his face. His beard is too long. Gods know what’s made itself at home in it. “I haven’t showered in over a month, and Salla is no doubt on his way up to collect his reward.”

“You promised him a reward?”

“You know I didn’t.”

They stare at each other until Davos’ leg begins to ache so much he has to grit his teeth to keep from making a noise Stannis will take as an attempt at excusing himself.

Eventually, when Stannis refuses to speak, Davos is forced to. “If there’s nothing else, I really could use that shower.”

There’s a split second where Stannis looks like he doesn’t know what to do. Then he remembers who he is and nods.

“Go. Clean yourself up.”

Davos knows better than to push his luck. He nods, then turns on his good leg and takes the elevator down.

Salla is waiting for him.

“You should have loved a different man,” he says, shaking his head.

“I wish I could say I want to.”

Salla groans. “Westerosi.”

“Go see about your reward,” Davos advises, “though I can’t promise Stannis will be in the mood to offer you one.”

“If he doesn’t want me to steal his right hand man, he will be.”

With that, Salla steps into the elevator.

It’s an old and empty threat, one Davos knows not to bother thinking about as he limps away. Salla and Stannis butted heads in the beginning often enough that Salla knows Davos will side with Stannis when it matters, and Salla has never been anything if not pragmatic. So Davos merely shakes his head as he traipses toward his quarters and the shower he’s needed for longer than he cares to think about.

xx

He’s finished showering and given into the temptation to let himself soak off a month of grime when it hits him.

Stannis knows.

Davos has never made much of a secret that he loves Stannis. Plenty of people have recognized it. Most warned him it was futile; a few, like Salla, shook their heads in confusion.

Davos looks down at his shortened fingers as he did every day when he was stuck in King’s Landing. He doesn’t miss what Stannis took; he’s reaped far more than he lost. Other thieves lose entire hands, and Stannis isn’t given to mercy. He could have moved the cleaver a few inches lower and remained within the law. He could have chosen Davos’ dominant hand, and that, too, would have been just.

If he had, Davos still wouldn’t have turned the offer down.

Davos hadn’t known mercy isn’t a quality Stannis has in great quantities. He’d relied on the honor of a lord not long a man, which had been foolish. Stannis isn’t a Stark, and he doesn’t pretend to be. Honor doesn’t interest him; if he has to break faith to achieve what he feels he must, then he will.

Yet the tips of his lesser hand was the price Stannis demanded, and Davos has yet to regret paying it.

The phantom tips do bother him sometimes, though. He still isn’t used to the strange sensation of something he doesn’t have itching and doubts he ever will be. He was tempted to try to keep the bones, but in this world, the less sentiment you carry, the safer you are.

Still, it’s difficult to sleep when his fingers itch but there’s nothing to scratch.

He doesn’t think about how well that parallels the misplaced flame he’s been carrying for Stannis.

Someone in this forsaken world ought to have figured out a way to kill one-sided emotions.

He doesn’t think about the fact that he wouldn’t take it if there were.

Letting out a long, shaky breath, Davos sinks deeper into the water. It’s a good thing he does, because not a minute later, the door to his quarters bursts open, followed quickly by the door to the bathroom.

His sons, all seven of them, come crashing through.

They look at him with wide eyes, and Davos is suddenly and ferociously reminded of how long it’s been since he saw them.

Steffon recovers first.

“Dad!”

He skitters across the floor, and Davos has to catch him before his son throws himself into the tub.

Davos hadn’t let himself think about his sons. If he had, he might have thought about never seeing them again, and that would have stolen his will to live more than the pain of broken bones ever could.

“Hello,” he says, wrapping his wet arms around the smallest of his sons. It isn’t enough, but it’s all he can force out.

Dale recovers next, and the others follow quickly. Before Davos knows it, all of them have gathered around the tub, crowding each other and jostling to reassure themselves he’s alive.

“Were you well taken care of?” Davos asks when he’s given the chance to speak. Stannis has his arms around Davos’ neck, and Davos doesn’t try to dislodge him.

“Yeah,” Dale assures him.

“Mr. Baratheon took care of us,” Devan adds. “He said Dale and Allard and Maric and Matthos are old enough they didn’t have to stay with him if they didn’t want to, but he said the rest of us did.”

“He didn’t let us go after you,” Allard mutters. His fists are clenched, and Davos reaches for him. Allard looks away, but he lets Davos lay a comforting hand on his knee.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to,” Davos reminds them. “He knew that.”

Davos can tell it isn’t enough for Allard. It isn’t enough for any of them, but it’s true. He’d rather spend another month alone as he was than risk any of them coming after him.

“I’m back now,” he reminds them, “and I doubt I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Did you get any new scars?” Steffon asks in thinly veiled excitement.

“Sorry, but I didn’t manage to get any of those. Maybe next time.”

Steffon nods as Davos is hit with a chorus of threats from his older sons.

“Don’t,” Dale says quietly, his voice coming after the others have finished. “Not about this.”

He’s the oldest, and Davos watches the younger boys mimic Dale’s shift in mood.

“You can’t do that again,” Maric warns.

“I didn’t mean to do it the first time,” Davos points out.

“Dad-”

“You almost died,” Dale grits. “We thought you were gone and we couldn’t even go get your body.”

Stannis, in a move the man he’s named after would be mortified to see, begins to cry.

Davos reclaims his hand from Allard and uses it to reel Stannis in.

“I’m sorry,” he says against the crown of Stannis’ head. “You must have been scared.”

Stannis nods, and Steffon squeezes Davos’ neck harder.

“I’m back now, aren’t I? And I meant it when I said I won’t be leaving anytime soon. I’ll be right here; you can see me anytime.” Patting Steffon’s back, he adds, “You must have moved in with Mr. Baratheon. I didn’t see any of your things when I came in.”

“Shireen helped look after them,” Devan explains. “When Matthos and I had to go do things, she kept them with her.”

“She’s nice,” Steffon informs him.

Stannis nods.

Davos kisses Stannis’ head again. “She’s very nice. I hope you didn’t give her any trouble.”

Seven heads nod in unison.

“They were good,” Matthos says. “They thought you were dead. Everyone did.”

Davos gets the feeling he’s going to hear that a lot.

“What do you say I finish up here and we go get some supper?” he suggests. “I could eat a horse.”

That gets the boys moving.

Davos doesn’t linger in the bath. Once the door shuts, albeit crookedly after being forced open, he gets up slowly- it would be a terrible thing to survive the hellscape outside only to slip and die in his own tub- and takes a quick shower.

He dries off gently, taking care not to jostle his leg more than he needs to, and slips into the clothes he brought in earlier. He’d intended on having a quiet night, figuring everyone would be asleep and not wanting to wake them and disturb their sleep, so his clothes aren’t entirely acceptable for eating in the cafeteria. He doubts his sons will mind much this time.

xx

Davos has almost made it back to the table Dale and Allard saved for him- after a good argument about whether Davos should be allowed to fetch his own meal- when the doors open and Shireen walks in.

Her eyes go wide when she sees him, and Davos lays his tray down but doesn’t sit.

“Hello again,” he says. “You’ve grown while I was away.”

She doesn’t run to him like his sons had, but she’s Stannis’ daughter. She doesn’t run unless she’s being chased.

“Welcome back, Davos,” she says as she stops in front of him.

He can see her fidgeting, so he opens his arms for her. Invitation given, she doesn't hesitate; she steps forward and throws her arms around his chest hard enough to hurt.

“I missed you, too,” he tells her, putting his arms around her in return. “The boys tell me you looked after them. I’m sorry you had to do that, but I’m grateful you did. They’ve never looked better.”

He isn’t exaggerating. All seven are clean and dressed appropriately. Marya would be proud.

“It wasn’t hard,” she says into his chest. She’s nearly too tall to do it, and Davos’ chest gets tight at the thought. She’ll outgrow him soon; her mother and father both stand head and shoulders above him, and Shireen is already taller than most of his sons.

For now, he can still kiss the crown of her head just like he kisses his sons’.

“They’re Seaworths,” he points out kindly. “We’ve all got a soft spot for your family. It’s a family trait, so I’m afraid you’ll never be rid of us.”

Shireen hiccups a laugh, and Davos realizes his chest is wet from her crying into it.

He holds her tighter and lets her cry away from prying eyes all she needs.

When she finally steps back, her face is red and splotchy.

It strikes him that Davos got the daughter he never thought he’d have.

“Do you have to get back to your father?” he asks. “Or do we get to keep you for a while longer?”

“I can stay,” she says, voice hoarse.

“Good! Then you can share in our midnight supper as well. I won’t have you turning into an ascetic like for father if I can help it.”

He shepherds her to the table where the boys have already made space for her next to Davos.

They really are good sons, Davos thinks proudly. Dale, Allard, and Maric are good men, too, and the boys are on the same path.

If it weren’t for Stannis, Davos wouldn’t be able to say that.

“So,” he says as Shireen settles in against his side, “what did I miss?”

“The Boltons tried to take over, but Stannis- not you, Stannis, I mean Mr. Baratheon- pushed them back,” Dale says first.

Davos lets the slip go uncorrected.

“Dr. Pylos gave me a shot,” Steffon informs him next, suitably somber.

Shireen taps Davos’ arm. “Uncle Loras’ garden has sunflowers.”

“The red witch called Cersei Lannister a-”

_ “No,” _the older boys say to Devan.

“I wasn’t gonna say it…”

The rest of the meal is filled with updates on the progress of Dragonstone- new additions, new rules, attacks they repelled, annoying lessons, the revelation that Shireen’s friend Patches has taken to speaking in iambic pentameter. Davos takes in as much as he can and lets the rest wash over him. The sound of their voices is another thing he hadn’t let himself think he’d never have again. The chaos of eight people talking over each other and jockeying for bites of Davos’ food makes his throat feel tight, and Davos finds himself squeezing Steffon harder than he means to.

He’s fortunate that his youngest son, who’s perched happily on Davos’ lap, is distracted by Shireen’s offer to share some of the pie Devan ran into the cafeteria at some point and stole for her.

Slowly, they finish the food and Davos feels himself yawn.

“Time to go back,” Dale says firmly.

Davos nods. He’s exhausted. It’s different from the exhaustion he felt when he was trapped in King’s Landing, but it’s dragging him down into sleep just the same.

He doesn’t remember much of the journey back to his room, but when he lies down to sleep, his bed has three more bodies in it than usual.

Comfortable and finally warm again, Davos drifts off the moment he lies down. 

xx

Pylos looks at Davos grimly. “The bone has already set,” he explains. “The body wants to heal itself, and you were away for so long it made the repairs it could. I know it puts stress on you and causes pain, but it isn’t set so terribly that I can justify operating to fix it.”

Davos had expected as much, but it still stings. “Do I at least get a cane?”

“If you’d like. The problem now is the unevenness of your body rather than damage to the bone, so I can’t promise it will help, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“Do you have any distinguished ones?”

Pylos’ expression almost lifts into a smile. “I don’t. If you’d like to make yourself one, you’re welcome to.”

It isn’t a terrible idea, and Davos suspects Pylos means it earnestly.

“I suppose I’ll have to start looking for branches, then.”

xx

Davos is sitting at one of the tables outside, enjoying the sunlight and the sounds of the people around him as he looks over the most recent of the branches he’s considering for a walking stick, most of whom have come up and told him they’re relieved to see him home again or given him a nod of acknowledgement. A few have pointedly not met his eyes, and Davos can guess they were the first to take from Davos’ bag.

The boys were with him earlier, but they got called away one by one to take care of their duties.

Alone now, Davos isn’t surprised when Shireen appears.

“I’ve never seen Father cry,” she begins without so much as a hello. She’s speaking quickly as if she’s afraid something will stop her.

Davos sets the branch aside.

Shireen looks at it instead of him as she continues. “He didn’t cry when Uncle Robert died, and he doesn’t cry when he talks about Grandmother and Grandfather. He didn’t cry when we thought you were dead either. He argued with Dr. Pylos, though. He even yelled at Mother and Miss Melisandre.” She glances at Davos, then away again. “I was there when the doctor gave him your things. I wasn’t supposed to be, but Steffon and Stannis were with Devan and I was tired.”

Davos lays his hand over hers. “Shireen...”

“Father didn’t mind when he heard you’d asked for him to look after Devan and the others. He was surprised, which doesn’t happen much, but he wasn’t mad. Then he read your letter.”

Davos swallows. That makes sense.

“I asked too much of him, I think,” he says, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think you did.” She looks at him again, her brow furrowed. “He hasn’t said anything since he got it, but he kept talking to himself about waiting too long. I don’t think he’s angry with you.”

Davos’ gut drops.

_She’s such a delicate child, _he thinks rather than consider what she’s just told him. She shouldn’t be so concerned with making adults happy. Davos has been hoping that spending time with his sons will encourage her to come out of her shell a bit and learn to be a child while she still is one, but she seems set on being older than she is.

“You really eavesdropped on your father?” he asks after a time. He’s looking for levity, but Shireen is her father’s daughter.

“He forgets about me sometimes,” she tells him simply.

Davos swallows an empty reassurance that isn’t his to give.

“It was kind of you to tell me,” he says instead.

“You won’t tell Father I said anything, right?” she asks. “I don’t want to make him angry.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry; I can keep your father’s temper in check.”

Her eyes flick away, doubtful. “If you say so.”

“Shireen!”

One of the other girls is calling her name, and Shireen turns to wave at her.

“I’m glad you’re back, Davos,” she tells Davos right before she sprints toward her friend.

He watches her go and thinks tiredly that teenagers aren’t nearly as difficult as their fathers.

xx

Stannis’ office is, compared to the rest of the city, massive. It doesn’t usually feel that way; Davos tends to forget the size of the repurposed building because Stannis fills it just by being in it.

Davos has given Stannis a week to decide what to do with him. He’d thought Stannis would take a day, then either start a fight or dismiss him. Instead, Stannis has kept entirely to himself.

The silence is unnerving, and as much as it goes against what Davos knows about handling Stannis, it’s clear the situation has fallen to Davos to move things forward.

It’s a risk, but Davos sneaks into Stannis’ office when he knows Stannis is away and settles in for an argument he doesn’t want to start.

At least he timed it well. He only has to wait a few minutes for Stannis to arrive.

Stannis gives him a flat look. “Why are you in my office?”

“We should talk.”

“I didn’t invite you here,” Stannis says. That doesn’t stop him from walking dramatically over to his desk and sitting down behind it.

Davos lets him glare at his papers for a minute.

“You didn’t invite me, no, but that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he asks when Stannis shows no sign of being done pretending to work. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you try to avoid something just because it’s unpleasant.”

“I’m not avoiding anything.”

“All right.”

Davos lets that stand, waiting for Stannis to break the silence.

It takes him a long time, but Davos knew it would. He’s used to Stannis’ punitive side. Usually it isn’t aimed at him, but even Davos falls afoul of Stannis’ moods.

You don’t wrestle with a buck without expecting it to turn its antlers on you at some point.

Eventually, Stannis asks, “Why did you leave me that letter?”

“As I said before-”

“No, you told me you intended for Shireen to have it if I died, but if that were truly the case, you would have addressed it to her. So I’ll ask you again: why did you leave me that letter?”

There’s no way for Stannis to know this, but Davos has been asking himself that ever since he decided to write the damn letter.

He still doesn’t have a good answer, but he does have an honest one.

“I wanted you to know.”

Stannis narrows his eyes. “That’s the purpose of a letter, yes.”

“I don’t mean I wanted to tell you; I mean I wanted you to _ know.” _ Stannis gives him a carefully blank look, and Davos wishes he could tell Stannis things like this without hurting him. “You twist things, Stannis. Even kindnesses become slights if you think about them for long enough. If I spoke to you, you’d convince yourself I was making fun of you or playing a game. I thought if I didn’t tell you while I was here, you might trust a letter more. I wouldn’t have anything to gain by taunting you from the grave. I hope you don’t think so lowly of me that you’d seriously consider I’d tell you a lie like that regardless, but that I’d want to hurt you after I’d died seemed like something you’d find the hardest to convince yourself of.”

That Davos was roaring drunk when he made the decision to write the letter isn’t a detail Stannis needs to know.

“Thank you for looking after my sons,” Davos says when Stannis only frowns at him. “I’m sorry to have dropped them on you like that, but they’ve been well cared for, as I knew they would be. You and Shireen have been good to them. I owe you more than I can repay for that alone.”

Message delivered, Davos intends to leave, but as he leveraged himself to his feet, he’s stopped by Stannis’ voice.

“It wasn’t difficult.”

Davos freezes. “Sorry?”

“Looking after your sons,” Stannis clarifies. “The older ones have grown into good men, and the younger ones were content with Shireen. They take after their father. I can only guess how he managed to replicate himself so thoroughly, but he did. And I know him well enough to make sense of his children.”

Davos’ heart beats hard enough to hurt. “Thank you.”

Stannis gives him a hard look. “I’d forgotten how easily you joined me. They were no more difficult to look after than you were at first- easier, perhaps. I didn’t have to smooth any important people’s ruffled feathers because your sons never got back at anyone as creatively as you did.”

“It was only once I had to get creative,” Davos reminds him.

“It was more often than that, though you’re right that I only had to intervene to put a stop to it once.” Stannis’ mouth quirks in one of his crooked smiles. “Stealing the man’s belongings and hiding them in his own quarters was an interesting touch.”

Davos can’t tell where this is going. He can usually anticipate Stannis- part of Stannis’ charm is that he’s inventive as a strategist but predictable when he’s acting only as a man- but he can’t begin to guess at what Stannis is thinking now.

“You should be with them,” Stannis says after a moment.

“What?”

“Your sons.” Stannis gives him a look that says Davos shouldn’t be struggling to keep up. He’s probably right. “Shireen enjoys looking after them and should continue to do so while you recover. It makes no sense to move them out when I have more than enough space for you and for them. So you should move in along with them. As you said, you love me, and I-” He clears his throat. “You’re the only person I invite into my home. It suits you.”

Davos shakes his head, and Stannis lifts his chin, jaw flexing.

“I see. Then you’ll take your leave of my office-”

“That wasn’t a no,” Davos says quickly. “I was shaking my head because this doesn’t feel real.”

Stannis narrows his eyes. “I can’t say I feel the same.”

_ No, _ Davos thinks, taking in Stannis’ stiff posture, _ I don’t suppose you do. _

A week hasn’t been enough rest to counter the exhaustion from King’s Landing and his travels for he got there, and the burst of nervous energy he had when he first came here has run its course.

“You’re right,” Davos sighs. “This is so exhausting, it must be real. And usually when you want me to move in with you in my dreams, there’s more fanfare. Only reality would be this simple.”

“Fanfare?” Stannis questions.

Davos nods.

“What does that mean, Davos? Did you expect me to open the window and shout?”

He’s probably joking, but Davos can’t be entirely certain.

The exhaustion is yanking at him now, and Davos just wants this conversation to be over so he can crawl back into bed. “It means you and I go back into your room and we have sex.”

Stannis tilts his head, considering. “We’ll have to lock the children out,” he says after a moment.

Davos’ heart thunders in his ears as he hears himself say, “I haven’t slept in more than a month. And I haven’t been with anyone in so long, I’m not sure I remember how.”

That isn’t entirely true; he’s caught an hour of sleep or two here and there. He even got a couple nights when he was out on his own.

He hasn’t slept with anyone since he and Marya parted ways, though, and even if he had, he’s so tired now, he’d probably take an accidental nap the moment he sat down to take his pants off.

Stannis narrows his eyes. “Is Pylos not giving you anything?”

“He offered, but we only have so much. Other people need it more; I’ll recover.”

One thing Stannis has always understood is self-denial, and as Davos finally finds himself not being argued with over this, Davos is glad for it.

“Perhaps you’ll sleep better in a new environment,” Stannis suggests.

Davos finds the energy to smile despite his exhaustion. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“You’ll move in, then.” He isn’t asking, but Stannis pauses for a moment, his eyes moving over Davos in a way that feels like Pylos checking for injuries rather than a come on, before he continues. “None of what I came here to do is urgent, and you’re about to collapse. Come.”

It’s reassuring that Stannis is as abrupt as he’s always been. He doesn’t try to take Davos’ hand as they leave. He doesn’t suddenly slow his pace.

He doesn’t speak with Davos as he leads the way to his quarters as he often does, but Davos is fine with that. He doesn’t have the energy to walk and talk at the same time.

None of the children is home when they arrive, but Davos can see evidence of their stay. Stannis’ sparsely furnished, tidy home suddenly has groups of cups on the table and dirty plates on the counter. There’s an open bag on the floor of snacks Stannis and Shireen don’t eat.

Just glancing around the living area as they pass through, Davos spots three things that are out of place, recognizing the signs of his sons’ caches of things they aren’t supposed to have.

Stannis really has been indulging them; he must have noticed but let the boys have their secrets.

“I’ll remind them to pick up after themselves,” Davos promises. Stannis must have done so already; this is already tidier than Davos’ home ever was.

Stannis nods as he opens a door that leads to a room Davos has never seen.

It’s dark inside but not entirely so, and Davos’ attention is drawn to the wide bed and the yellow comforter lying across it. Davos aches at the thought of lying down and getting uninterrupted sleep.

He loves his sons, but they do keep waking him up by kicking him in their sleep.

“This is yours for the time being,” Stannis tells him.

He nods at the bed, and Davos feels his eyes prickle with tears of relief as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. It’s softer than he’d expected and molds itself to him as he sinks into it.

“You know where everything is. If you need anything before I return, take it.”

Davos nods. “Thank you.”

“Then there’s only one thing left to do before I leave.”

He doesn’t tell Davos to guess. That would be a waste of time for both of them. He simply joins Davos at the edge of the bed, tilts Davos’ head up with two fingers under his chin, and dips his head.

Davos could pull away if he wanted to, but he can’t see any reason why he‘d want to.

Stannis kisses him softly and quickly, and when he pulls away, he clears his throat.

Davos wants another, but he can tell Stannis won’t indulge him yet. This is too new. Stannis needs time to adjust to people getting close to him. Davos can wait.

Fingers still under Davos’ chin, Stannis orders, “Sleep.”

There’s nothing to do but nod as Stannis retrieves his hand and feel the cold air rush over his skin where it had been warm under Stannis’ touch.

Stannis sweeps out of the room, leaving Davos to take off his boots and get into bed.

He barely manages to lay his head on the pillow before he’s swept into sleep.

xx

When Davos wakes up, his youngest sons are peering at him from the foot of the bed.

“Hello, boys,” Davos mumbles.

“Mr. Baratheon said we should wait until you came out on your own, but Steffon wanted to see you,” Stannis tells him.

As if Stannis hasn’t been as attached to Davos’ side as his brother.

Davos blinks at them. “Is Stannis back? Mr. Baratheon, not you, Stannis.”

Both boys nod.

“Did you sleep, Dad?” Steffon asks.

“I think I did.” Sitting up and stretching, Davos takes a quick inventory. He feels lighter than he had when he lay down, and the gnawing misery of exhaustion is nearly gone. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. We just got back from breakfast.”

Stannis- Davos had good intentions, but naming his son after a man he sees all the time wasn’t the wisest decision- nods along with his brother. “Mr. Baratheon took us.”

“That was kind of him.”

“Dale said you looked like shit, but you don’t look _ that _bad.”

“Steffon,” Davos chides.

“Well, he did.”

“Yeah,” Stannis chimes in. “I heard him.”

Davos’ stomach rumbles, and rather than continue fighting a losing battle, he pushes the blankets down and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m glad you let me sleep, but I’m starving.”

The boys immediately launch into a convoluted and inconsistent description of what the cafeteria is offering for breakfast. Davos lets them chatter as the three of them head into the main room.

Stannis is sitting in the overstuffed armchair he seems to favor when he has a moment for himself; he looks up from the papers on his lap when they walk in.

He frowns at Davos’ sons, likely guessing they didn’t obey when he told them to stay, but his expression softens when he looks at Davos.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” Davos echoes. He can’t help smiling at Stannis, and he spots the corners of Stannis’ mouth lifting. “How are you?”

Stannis starts to reply, but his namesake beats him to it. “Mr. Baratheon didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Davos scolds him automatically. He swallows the second part about tattling; teaching his older sons to stop acting like the sons of a smuggler he’d raised them to be and start acting like helpful people had been a headache he doesn’t want to repeat. Keeping an eye on the people they care about is a good habit. “I guess that means I’ll have company, doesn’t it? Are you two coming with us?”

Both boys shake their heads- and most of their bodies.

“No,” Stannis says, looking up at Davos with his mother’s eyes. “We’re going to the pond with Shireen and Devan. She said there’s a huge frog in it.”

“Did she now?” Davos has a suspicion that isn’t true- Shireen, now closer to twenty than ten, doesn’t hang around the water looking for animals to bother. “Let me know if you find it, will you?”

Two heads bob in unison just in time for the door to open.

Shireen herself appears, already dressed for an outdoors adventure. Devan is only a step behind her.

“Wow, Dale was right,” Devan tells him. “You did look like shit.”

“Language.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Davos should pursue this and point out Devan should be apologizing to Shireen and her father, but he’s still tired and hungry. He doesn’t have the energy to be an effective parent.

“Good morning, Davos,” Shireen says. There’s a tentative look on her face, one that makes her look hopeful and fearful at once.

He smiles at her. “Hello, Shireen. I hear you’re taking some of my sons on a frog-finding expedition.”

She smiles at him, and she looks genuinely excited. “Yeah, Devan and I saw a really big one yesterday.”

“Gigantic,” Devan adds seriously. “It was bigger than Steffon.”

“It was not!” Steffon grumbles. Even for one of Davos’ sons, he’s short- unaccountably so when Mary’s family is tall, his ex-wife herself taller than Davos- a fact Steffon’s brothers haven’t missed.

Davos shakes his head, pleased that they’re happy but beyond the years when he was interested in chasing animals that require bending over to study. “Are you going now?”

“If Stannis and Steffon are ready, yeah.”

“We are!” Steffon says quickly.

A few admonitions not to touch the frog and some reluctant promises not to touch the frog are exchanged, then the children head out.

“They’re going to touch that frog,” Davos sighs.

Stannis nods, looking pained- a man unexpectedly put in charge of seven rowdy boys if ever Davos has seen one. Never mind that half of them are grown- Davos’ older sons are just as headstrong and prone to exploring places they shouldn’t as the younger ones.

It occurs to Davos that they’re Stannis’ sons now, too. The man who’s wanted a son for most of his life has more than he knows what to do with. Shireen may have become Davos’ de facto daughter over time, a child who was happy to accept the doting Davos’ sons did their best to dodge, but Davos’ boys became Stannis’ sons over the course of weeks in Davos’ absence.

He feels himself smile wider. Stannis already commands the boys’ respect and has their love. And whether he realizes it or not, Stannis has been looking after them for years.

“Did you sleep well?” Stannis asks.

“I did. That bed is incredible.” An oddity Davos hadn’t thought of clicks into place. “I’m surprised you let guests have it.”

“Guests? What guests do I have, Davos?”

None. Stannis is infamous for not inviting people into his home.

“So I slept in your bed.”

“I got a lot of work done out here last night,” Stannis informs him, as if that’s anywhere near resolving Davos’ objection.

“And you really didn’t eat breakfast?”

Stannis nods.

In a backwards way, it’s comforting that Stannis’ priorities are as frustrating as they were before Davos left.

“You must be ready to eat,” Stannis continues. “It’s later than you usually join me.”

Davos nods, and Stannis pushes himself to his feet.

It hits Davos as he follows Stannis out the door and falls into step with him without thinking that he missed this. Shifting from walking behind Stannis in narrow spaces to walking beside him in wider ones is familiar, and feels Stannis’ steady presence nearby once again is comforting.

They stop just at the top of the stairs. Stannis freezes, and out of habit, Davos does as well.

“Is something wrong?”

Stannis shakes his head. “There’s something I meant to do.”

He turns to face Davos fully, and Davos knows in his gut what Stannis meant to do.

Their second kiss is harder than the first. Stannis threads his fingers through Davos’ hair as he pulls away, tilts his head, and leans back in, and their third kiss feels like Stannis might be thinking about doing something they shouldn’t do in a hallway.

“Breakfast,” he says softly. He doesn’t move away.

Davos, despite realizing he grabbed Stannis’ shoulders without meaning to, doesn’t move away either. “Right Sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology.”

Swallowing hard, Davos nods and makes himself let go when Stannis steps back.

They fall back into step as they resume their descent, and for the first time since he left, Davos feels himself relax.

xx

When he’d imagined it, Davos had assumed Stannis would be the one pushing Davos onto his back, but it was Stannis who dropped backwards onto the bed and tugged Davos along after himself.

He sucks at Davos’ neck and clings to Davos’ ass, and when Davos manages to push himself up onto his elbows and knees, Stannis tries to pull him back down.

Davos dips his head to kiss him. Stannis isn’t a great kisser, and he hadn’t pretended he would be. He’s a fast learner, though. Every kiss is one part kiss, one part lesson- Davos lets the strangeness of the thought wither away as Stannis moves onto pulling at Davos’ clothes.

“Still want me?” Davos asks against Stannis lips.

Stannis frowns at Davos’ pants. “Did you double knot these?”

“I may have thought you’d want to wait longer.”

“I don’t,” Stannis huffs. “Who thought lace up pants were a good idea?”

“Someone who wanted to make taking them off more of a tease, I’d guess.”

Davos leans up enough to reach back and pull his pants past his hips without losing his balance. 

His boxers go with them.

Stannis yanks on Davos’ shirt. “Come back here. I can’t reach you like this.”

Davos gladly lets himself be pulled back down.

He slides his hands up under Stannis’ shirt, feeling how warm he is. The hair on his belly is finer than Davos had thought it would be: his body is at once firmer and softer than in Davos’ imaginations. 

He pushes the hem of Stannis’ shirt up his body slowly, pressing soft kisses to Stannis’ trembling chest as he does, until he slips it over Stannis’ head and onto the floor.

Stannis puts his fingers in Davos’ hair, just touching it for a moment, before he hauls Davos back in. 

Davos could stay like this for a long time. Undoing Stannis’ pants and tugging them down his narrow hips, lying back down on top of him, Stannis trying to pull Davos’ shirt off without unbuttoning it or giving Davos time to help as they clumsily roll their hips together…

Stannis reaches for the bottle on Davos’ nightstand. He’d found it in Davos’ old quarters, more than half empty- he’d raised his eyebrows, and Davos had flushed as he reminded Stannis that gossip spread fast here. If Davos had been sleeping with anyone, or even slept with someone once, Stannis would have heard about it.

All that had done was make the corner of Stannis’ mouth up as he pointed out that that meant Davos had been using his precious bottle of lube on himself, alone.

He’d pushed Davos against a wall and carefully poured out just enough lube to make his palm slide smoothly over Davos’ cock, though, so he couldn’t have minded that much, especially when he’d ordered Davos to tell him what Davos had been thinking about when it was Davos’ own hand he’d been pushing into.

Davos can’t to see what happens when Stannis finds the box Davos stealthily relocated to the back of Stannis’ shirt drawer.

“Davos!”

Snapping back to the present, Davos finds Stannis frowning up at him, their bodies still.

“Sorry,” Davos tells him. He presses an apologetic kiss to the corner of Stannis’ mouth. “I was thinking about yesterday.”

Stannis doesn’t stop frowning, and in an act of pettiness, takes himself in hand instead of Davos.

“Stannis…”

Davos almost recognize Stannis like this. The man who can’t disentangle himself from other people quickly enough, whose once-yearly obligatory fuck of his wife left him miserable, closes his eyes and breathes hard and lets himself feel good.

Davos watches him, wanting to touch but wanting just to watch as well.

Stannis doesn’t force him to choose. He wriggles the rest of the way out of his pants one-handed and kicks them off, his right hand still clasped around himself. His left hand reaches for the bottle again, which he pushes at Davos.

What he wants doesn’t click until he hitches his left leg up.

“You want to?” Davos asks. He sounds more uncertain he’d like, but Stannis keeps throwing him off-balance.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve done this, if you’re concerned about that.”

Davos blinks at him. “It’s what?”

Stannis sighs and reaches up to touch Davos’ face with his left hand. “There’s more than one reason Selyse and I never had a child after Shireen.”

He moves his hand away from Davos’ face, only to grab a handful of Davos’ ass.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he says softly. “My wife knows it. Melisandre knows it. They obliged me, and I returned the favor. I’ve waited for you for a long time, Davos. Don’t do me the disservice of doubting me here when you don’t outside our room.”

The logic in that is twisted, but Davos is hung up on the implication that Stannis was getting pegged for years and Davos never noticed.

“I only want to give you what you want.”

“And I want you to have what’s yours,” Stannis tells him. “So open the bottle and give us both what we want.”

Somehow, Davos finds the dexterity to do as Stannis orders.

He doesn’t manage to make Stannis come as quickly as he’d wanted to, but Stannis fights him every second he lasts, his eyes shut tight and his breaths forced into coming evenly.

Davos does make him come, though. With three fingers in Stannis and his mouth sucking a kiss to the top of his cock, Davos heard Stannis’ voice falter and sees his belly twitch.

It’s probably too much, but Davos licks Stannis clean.

He slides his fingers free, intending to give Stannis a minute to recover, but Stannis grabs his wrist, eyes flying open.

“Now, if you can,” he rasps.

“Stannis-”

“This is what I want.”

He meets Davos’ eyes steadily, and slowly, Davos nods.

He’s careful when he pushes his fingers back in, and he takes the time to do more than press into Stannis to make him groan.

It gets hard to think for a moment when Stannis finally wraps his slick fingers around Davos; all he can do is breathe and feel Stannis’ touch and remember this is his now.

When his heart stops pounding in his chest hard enough to break his ribs, Davos shifts forward to kneel between Stannis’ thighs.

Stannis is getting hard again, and Davos loosely wraps his fingers around his cock.

He watches Stannis arch his back and wonders how Stannis tricked so many of them into thinking he’s cold and dispassionate when Davos running a finger up his thigh makes Stannis spread his legs even further and shake.

When Davos finally pushes in, Stannis clutches at him. He hooks a leg over Davos’ hip and cants his hips up, pulling Davos closer.

It almost feels like a dream, except Stannis’ grip is hard enough to sting and Davos’ imagination never could have conceived the idea of Stannis trying to fuck himself on Davos when Davos has to stop and breathe for a moment.

When Davos fits his palm to the back of the thigh Stannis wrapped around him, Stannis lets out a quiet, “Finally.”

Davos shifts his hips slowly, tracking the changes in Stannis’ expression but finding only relief and frustration.

“If you aren’t going to fuck me,” Stannis begins.

He doesn’t finish because Davos can tell Stannis is as ready as he looks and leans down to fuck him the way Stannis wants.

Stannis curses and digs his fingers deeper into Davos. He doesn’t make a lot of noise, but he does talk. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, all his broody silence falling away as he tells Davos how good it feels and orders him not to stop and rattled off times he thought about this, filling in details like how big Davos is and how handsome he is and demanding to know what Davos is thinking.

“I’m not,” Davos pants against Stannis’ chest. It’s been too long since he slept with someone. “I can’t think when I’m trying not to embarrass myself.”

Stannis touches Davos’ face again, this time with both hands. “My onion knight. You can’t embarrass yourself.” He pulls Davos’ head up to kiss him. “I want you. Who else can say that?”

Davos shivers.

“Tell me, Davos. Who else can say that?”

Davos closes his eyes and says, “No one.”

“Then stop thinking about embarrassment and give me what I want.”

With one last deep breath, Davos opens his eyes and does as Stannis says.

Stannis comes first, both legs now wrapped around Davos’ hips, both hands buried in Davos’ hair. His voice catches in the middle of a low moan, and Davos gently works him through it.

When Davos gets close, he asks, “Where should I…?”

Stannis kisses his cheek, his jaw. “Where you are.”

So Davos does. He squeezes Stannis too hard, but Stannis only holds him through it, brushing his fingers through Davos’ hair and softly kissing his face as Davos tries to remember how to breathe.

Still breathing hard, Stannis nevertheless manages to catch enough breath to hum to himself. “I knew you’d be good.”

“Stannis…”

“You saved my life with your boat full of onions and jerky. I would’ve had you then if I’d thought you would have had me.”

Davos clears his throat. He’d thought something similar when he met the man holding out against two militias, stubbornly running his fledgling town and planning how to strike back. Davos hadn’t been a faithful husband, and Marya had known it. She’d had a few nights with other men, but her eyes hadn’t wandered as Davos’ had.

Then he met Stannis and he’d forgotten how to wander.

“I probably would have,” Davos admits as he gently pulls out and drops onto his side next to Stannis. “You’re hard not to want.”

“An uncommon opinion.”

“A failing of the people around us.”

Stannis shakes his head, unconvinced. He lays his left hand on Davos’ chest but says nothing.

Davos lets him have his silence. He knows Stannis’ skepticism and his suspicion. He could fill a book with Stannis’ bitter internal monologue cataloging the slights against him. There’s no curing him of them; he wouldn’t accept it even if there were.

Curling his hand around Stannis’ wrist, Davos brings Stannis’ hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

Stannis lets out a soft breath. “Don’t take this as permission to disappear again.”

Davos huffs a laugh but leans into Stannis’ hand. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

Comfortably sleepy, Davos feels himself drift towards sleep, but remembers to flap a hand behind himself until he manages to flip the switch on the lamp.

Deep in the dark, Davos can’t see Stannis, but he can feel him. The bed is warm from him, his slow breaths are tickling over Davos’ skin, and his wrist is still in Davos’ grasp, his heart beating firmly under Davos’ fingers.

This is what Davos has been orienting himself towards all his life without knowing, and now that he’s reached it, he isn’t going anywhere.


End file.
